A thousand drummers playing drums
within my head,
like firecrackers bursting,
Rivers of (whatever) oozing out,
Trickling eyes, prickling nose,
Snee..achoo!..zing...and sneezing...and sneezing!
Every muscle aches,
Feeling fatigued and flushed,
Puffy eyes, stuffy nose,
Bouts of throaty cacophonies come out uninvoked ,
Body sore, mood sourer..
Even the bed seems uncomfortable,
Pain deludes, sleep eludes (snuffle!)
Inflamed glands fight ill-famed flu,
Tasteless food, faceless foe, endless distress,
Don't come near! This is contagious!
Life is drear, this is outrageous!
Eyes flowing, nose-blowing!
And I feel like...
Chasing this flu away.
9th Feb 2023
For Charles Messina's "I felt like" contest
Categories:
sourer, how i feel, sick,
Form: Free verse
The Call To Justice
When the days turn sourer
And the month turns dark
With the years flinging to return no more
Only the lonely already will thrive.
When the hopes of the Negros grow faint
Buried in the bellies of men in high positions
Who sit only for their own interests
With the future of the weak vanquishing into endless strife
Caused by the city’s loafers who do nothing but enjoy.
When the homeless graduates turn murderers
And jobless men are marked languid
Yet only the men in high positions progenies relish
Then let those who have never been wronged laugh.
Let those whose eyes long for just days stand!
Let the men, women and children of our nations
Be awaken from their breathless sleep
So all looters in high positions will flee
From the wrathful wrist of Anas’ restless tiger eyes.
Categories:
sourer, courage,
Form: Didactic
After All this far-off time
This is getting sourer than a lime
Now a large mound I’ve climbed
But on those days I still glime
Those mistakes
Still aches
Still takes
Me under lakes
When I wake
I found it’s too late
But on the other side
Where you feel so pride
I think I ain’t be the only one who cried
Revenges, griellance, and avengement all we tried
Falls back on us and we collide
Those mistakes
Still aches
Still takes
Me under lakes
When I wake
I found it’s too late
Although I don’t aim
That blame
On you, neither claim
The same
Now I understood
That this ain’t good
And life’s agood
NiKhil Sati
Categories:
sourer, irony, poetry, sad, september,
Form: Rhyme
Creeks in your heart flower the moss that stagnates
blood is red rubied and frozen dead
it is protoplasmic is my guess
rooted deep check with floss
slights and rejects have numbed you sad
emotional rocks and hearty shocks
have slithered in snakey and they are sinking glad
poison is sinewed and wide spread
if there is anything sourer than sour
then it is you my lad!
any sharp look pierces in like broken glass
onlooker is enemy that you wished were dead
down eyed not syndromed so you live
breaths do come and go-life does not
violence builds in grey not escaping
though you wish with impotent futility
to give them all back
dear boy! hold on to all you got
here is another SACK!
over the brink and good gaud (with him yeah) solid dead!
Categories:
sourer, life
Form: Free verse